


Not a Weapon, but a Strike Against the Heavens

by vgersix



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 1960's, DO NOT REPOST WORK, Friendly banter, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, No Sex, Podfic & Podficced Works, historical events
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 11:21:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19829125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vgersix/pseuds/vgersix
Summary: Crowley isn't usually interested in the newspaper, or current events that don't concern him directly. But something has caught his eye, and Aziraphale doesn't understand it at first. Once he does, he's more than happy to have gone along for the ride.





	Not a Weapon, but a Strike Against the Heavens

**Author's Note:**

> Guys, I'm so honored!!! You can now listen to the podfic version of this story, recorded by the wonderful [ExMarks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExMarks/pseuds/ExMarks), at the link below!
> 
> Listen to the podfic here: [Not a Weapon, but a Strike Against the Heavens](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21757465)

October, 1967.

Crowley had been silent for some time, staring intently at the coffee table in the back room of Aziraphale's bookshop. They had been drinking most of the afternoon, talking about this and that and nothing as they had several times now since that Spring evening in the Bentley. Things left unsaid, confessions half made. Holy water in a tartan canteen. They'd not spoken of it, but one day Crowley had simply turned up at the bookshop with a bottle in hand, and they'd met for drinks once or twice since then. 

Crowley's gaze had fallen to something on the table, and he'd grown very quiet for some minutes. 

He moved suddenly; snatching a newspaper from the table, and held it up, reading the front page intently.

"What is it?" asked Aziraphale. It wasn't like Crowley to care about the news. Or reading.

"I want to see it," Crowley said decisively.

"See what?" 

"It," Crowley grunted, turning the paper so Aziraphale could see the front page, planting one finger square in the middle of the full width photo on the cover. "I want to see it."

Aziraphale squinted to make out the fuzzy picture through his drunkenness. "What is it, then? Some kind of weapon? Looks like a great big mis--missi-- a big bomb."

Crowley physically recoiled. "A bomb?! Are you mad?"

Aziraphale had already turned his attention back to the half empty bottle of wine in front of him, topping off his glass. 

"Something new you cooked up to torment them?" he asked in a smug tone. "Want to make sure it goes off without a hitch?"

Silence. Aziraphale looked up to find Crowley frowning at the paper. He'd slumped in his seat, and he'd gone quiet again, ceasing even to breathe. 

"Crowley?"

"Forget it," Crowley said. "You wouldn't understand." He muttered the last bit under his breath, tossing the newspaper back onto Aziraphale's table and clamoring to his feet. 

"M'onna go home. I'm tired," Crowley mumbled, already heading for the door.

"Oh, but we've still got--" Aziraphale started to say, but Crowley was already at the door, and passing through it. 

He left without so much as a, 'So long, see you next decade.'

Aziraphale didn't see him for another two years.

***

"So, how are things?" Aziraphale asked, perhaps a bit awkwardly, tossing bread crumbs to the ducks.

"Fine," Crowley answered, a bit guarded. "Do any good deeds lately?"

"Of course. You do any bad ones?"

"Naturally," Crowley threw the last of his bread and dusted off his hands over the water.

They were standing in Saint James Park, as they had many times now, just enjoying a pleasantly warm summer morning. 

Aziraphale shifted his feet, unsure how to get to the topic at hand.

Crowley turned on him, frowning. "Whatsamatter with you?"

"What?" Aziraphale perked up, blinking guiltily.

"You're acting weird. Dodgy."

"Oh," Aziraphale sighed. "Well, it's just…"

"Look, if it's about last time, I--"

"You just stormed out; didn't even say goodbye! I thought--"

"Right," Crowley shrugged. "Anyway. Yeah."

It was about as close to an apology as Crowley got. But Aziraphale wasn't looking for an apology. Rather, he owed one.

"I was wrong," he found himself saying. "I'm sorry."

Crowley blinked. "What are _you_ sorry for?"

"Well, after you left, I read the paper."

Crowley looked away, out at the water. 

"Oh," he said.

"And Crowley, it sounds… Well, it sounds quite remarkable!"

"Hng," Crowley grunted, non-committal. "Assuming it works. Whole damned thing might blow up, or just crash Satan-knows-where."

Aziraphale's brow knitted in concern. "It's not, is it? Damned?"

Crowley laughed, looking pleased at last. "Oh, no! Best part! They came up with it all on their own! Just because they can. Or, rather, just to see if they can. Guess we'll find out soon enough, won't we?"

Aziraphale smiled. Crowley's happiness was quite infectious; he'd always found it to be so. Though of course he could never tell him that.

"Yes," he said. "Let's."

Crowley got still, leaning on the iron wrought fence with one elbow. "Let's what?"

"Find out," said Aziraphale. "Go and see. You always wanted to see the 'New World' anyway," he made air quotes with his hands. "Didn't you? Now's our chance. You _said_ you wanted to see it."

Now Crowley got very quiet indeed. He leaned heavily on the railing. 

"You want to… go… with me?" He said, disbelieving. 

Aziraphale moved closer to the railing, clutching the edge and scrunching his shoulders in, atwitter with the thought of it all. 

"Well, seems a rather momentous occasion. I'd hate to miss it. Or be reduced to squinting through the whole thing on telly."

Crowley scoffed, "That little miniature job you've got in the bookshop? Couldn't see much on that, I imagine."

"Exactly. So, it's settled then. We'll go."

Crowley smirked. "We'll have to go by plane. And you hate flying."

Aziraphale grimaced. "It's not the flying I dislike. It's the aircraft."

"Right."

Aziraphale sighed with resignation. "Well, I suppose I'll survive. Unless," he mused, glimmering with an idea. "We could take a boat!"

"No," Crowley shook his head. "Too late for that. It's happening tomorrow."

Aziraphale deflated. "Oh."

"But you knew that," Crowley shot him a knowing look over his designer sunglasses. "S'why you wanted to see me today?"

Aziraphale turned a shade of pink, suddenly very interested in anything but making eye contact with the demon. 

"Oh," he said, digging in his pockets. "Don't know what you mean. Lucky coincidence."

"Sure." 

Crowley pushed off the railing, starting up the footpath. "Right then. Come on, angel. We've got a plane to catch."

***

It began with a low rumble. The huge clock was counting down nearby, ticking off one second at a time. Aziraphale glanced around, taking in the scene. They were part of one huge body, a crowd of human figures lining the periphery as far as the eye could see.

“How many people would you say are here, Crowley?”

His companion raised a hand, shielding his already sunglasses-clad eyes. Fair enough, it was bright enough to justify the gesture. The blistering Florida sun was already beating down on them, even at just past 9am. 

“Nearly all of them, in some form or another,” said Crowley. “Watching from their television sets, via radio, other places. But here? Within a five kilometer radius? Hard to say. Feels like…”

Aziraphale shook his head in awe. “Seems like just yesterday, the number of people just here…”

Crowley nodded in agreement. “It would have encompassed all of humanity.”

“They’ve certainly come a long way since then, haven’t they?”

Crowley turned to look at Aziraphale. He was just close enough, and it was just bright enough, Aziraphale could see the thin slit of pupil and gold iris of his eyes through the dark glasses. He was smiling. 

“Yes, they certainly have,” Crowley mused, and something like pride passed between the two of them.

“Thirty-five seconds and counting--” a voice called over a loudspeaker. 

“I’m glad you convinced me to come along,” Aziraphale found himself saying, breathless. Watching this unfold on the tiny little black and white television set back at his bookshop just wouldn’t have been the same. 

“Was your idea, as I recall,” the demon said, in a tone just short of rubbing it in. Just short of ‘I told you so, and aren’t you glad you came to your senses, angel?’

The loudspeaker spoke again. “Astronauts report it feels good, T-minus twenty five seconds. Twenty seconds and counting. T-minus fifteen seconds. Guidance is internal.”

A hush fell over the crowd. This was the moment. Aziraphale, not for the first time this morning, was overcome by the mixed sensations of hope, fear, and above all… love… that were radiating through the crowd. It was as if the whole world were holding its breath. He noted that Crowley too had suddenly become very still.

“12.. 11.. 10.. 9.. Ignition sequence start. 6.. 5.. 4..”

Aziraphale’s heart skipped a beat as the blast of jet engine fuel shot from the bottom of the rocket, quickly spreading across the surrounding area. 

“3.. 2.. 1.. 0.. All engines running.”

And then it began to move. “Liftoff!” the man on the loudspeaker said, subdued excitement clearly present in his voice. “We have a liftoff! Thirty two minutes past the hour!”

And just seconds later, “Tower cleared!”

The sound. The way the Earth positively trembled in response to the sheer power of this monstrous, wonderful thing rising faster and faster with each passing second, straight like an arrow being fired into the heavens. In what felt like no time at all, it had grown further and further out of sight, leaving only a plume of white smoke in its wake. 

Aziraphale realized that for at least the last minute, he himself had forgotten to breathe.

"They did it!” He exclaimed. “I can't believe that actually worked."

Crowley let out an audible sigh, and it occured to Aziraphale that he’d not been the only inhuman being present who was holding his breath. 

"Oh,” said Crowley. “Well, they're not done yet. Just getting started."

"R-right," Aziraphale shook his head. "I knew that. What is it, comes next?"

Crowley turned, jamming his hands in his pockets, easing back into a calm, cool demeanor now that the moment of greatest danger had passed. Though, Aziraphale thought, he was right. The rocket may be out of their relative sight, but it could still blow up. There were still a million little things that could go wrong, surely.

"They'll lose a few pieces of that monster rocket along the way,” Crowley was saying. “Drop 'em off as they go--then in about four days, the little, tiny box they’re actually inside of... pops apart, spins around into a new configuration so they can… get it situated, right?"

"Mmhm?" Aziraphale was trying his best to follow. And he wasn't even drunk. Felt a bit like it, though. He looked up into the bright blue Florida sky again. It was still filled with clouds of steam and smoke and ash. Would be for some time, he imagined.

"And then," Crowley was saying, "Angel, are you listening?" 

"Oh, yes, I'm sorry." He squirmed, grinning. "It's so exciting!" 

"Yes. So then, they'll have to do the reverse of what they've done here, essentially. On a much smaller scale, mind." He points toward the now empty platform where, just moments before, there had been an enormous, nearly 400 foot tall rocket. 

"They'll turn on what they call reverse thrusters, slow themselves down, and land it, very carefully, on the Moon."

Aziraphale's eyes were wide with wonder. "That's amazing. Oh, do you think it'll work? Oh, what if something goes wrong? We ought to watch over them, just to make sure."

Crowley thought about it. "Not sure we can, angel. No oxygen up there. Just void, like the Beginning. Unless you want to explain to Upstairs why you discorporated yourself to look after a few astronauts..."

"Oh," Aziraphale said, ringing his hands. "I suppose you're right." 

They looked up, but already the rocket was far beyond sight.

"No," Aziraphale sighed. "No, I suppose they are quite on their own."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry,” said Crowley. “They'll be all right. They've made it this far." 

They stood there for a few minutes, looking skyward with the rest of the human crowd. Finally Crowley’s gaze returned to the Earthly plane. 

“Well,” he said. “Treat you to some lunch? Call it payback for that flight over.”

Aziraphale shuddered at the memory. “It was a bit bumpy wasn’t it?”

“Pretty sure theirs was bumpier,” Crowley pointed upwards as they began to meander through the crowd, making their way toward something like an exit. 

Aziraphale laughed, “I suppose you’re right. Hmm,” he mused. “I’ve never eaten seafood on a beach before. I hear tell that’s a thing that can be done here.”

“Hmm,” Crowley nodded. “Ah, yes. Plenty of little drinks with umbrellas in them to be had as well.”

“Bit early in the morning for that, don’t you think?”

“Nah,” Crowley shook his head. “We’re celebrating. Or at least I am. Still not sure about you, angel.”

Aziraphale blanched. “How do you mean?”

“Well,” Crowley winced. "It’s all a bit Tower of Babel*, isn’t it? Blows that one right out of the water, actually…”

Aziraphale scoffed. “Oh, stop it. And we were having such a nice time.”

Crowley laughed, turning to shoot Aziraphale a warm smile completely devoid of any smirk or sarcasm. “We still are, angel. Come on, let’s see about those little umbrellas.”

**Author's Note:**

> *The Tower of Babel: A story from Genesis, the first book of the Bible and Torah. Humans built a tower to the heavens, and God smote them down, scattering them and creating all the world languages to confuse them for their hubris. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tower_of_Babel
> 
> I am a great big soft, emotional human when it comes to NASA history and especially the Apollo 11 first manned mission to the Moon. Something tells me Crowley would take a special interest in this event, what with his personal history around hanging the heavens, helping create nebulae, etc. 
> 
> This video was very helpful when going through the last few seconds of the countdown, and I recommend watching it if you never have, or if you haven't in a while: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zGNryrsT7OI
> 
> The Apollo 11 Saturn V rocket launched from Cape Kennedy (now called Cape Canaveral) at 9:32am on July 16th, 1969, 50 years ago today. It carried with it Neil Armstrong, Michael Collins, and Buzz Aldrin on their five day mission to the Moon, where Armstrong and Aldrin would become the first humans to ever set foot on an extraterrestrial body. 
> 
> Aziraphale and Crowley shared a drink, watching the live video feed of the first moon walk on that teeny television set in the back room of the bookshop. They could not have been more proud. ;)


End file.
